


Let it all Burn Down Around Us

by The_Cinderninja



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Burning of the Ships at Losgar, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-26 13:33:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30106716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Cinderninja/pseuds/The_Cinderninja
Summary: It wasn't Ambarussa, but Celebrimbor who slept on the ships.
Relationships: Celegorm | Turcafinwë & Curufin | Curufinwë
Comments: 8
Kudos: 27





	Let it all Burn Down Around Us

The air was thick with smoke.

Heavy with the sounds of distant shouting.

Curufin woke quickly, but in a daze. The past weeks hung heavy in his mind, leaving his body standing in a tent while his mind was cast back into the shadows of Tirion, scrambling to catch up.

The shouting drew nearer, and he was able to discern the voices of his brothers, but not their words. A voice at his elbow startled him to clarity.

“Curvo?”

He looked down, eyes adjusting to the darkness within the tent. It was not the pitch black that one would expect at this time of night. There was a weak orange glow visible through the heavy canvas. For a moment he was back in the fires of Alqualondë. He flinched.

Wide eyes looked up at him. Ambarussa. “Curvo, what is going on?” He whispered, as if afraid to draw the attention of those outside. Curufin did not blame him. The world felt surreal and filled with horror, now. Their own host had become something dark and fearful.

Curufin shook his head, unsure. “I do not know.” The strangeness of the scene suddenly struck him. “Where is your brother?” He asked, unused to seeing a lone Ambarussa.

Dark amber eyes grew wider as Ambarussa cast his gaze around the tent as though for the first time. “He was here-”. Without another word, he hurried to exit the tent. Curufin followed silently behind him.

They stood for a moment in shock, unable to immediately process the scene before them. The ships...

The ships were burning.

Each and every one of them. Curufin's first thought was that there must have been an accident. An incredible accident. But logic quickly caught up with him. This was too widespread. There was no way this was an accident.

Nobody could have set fire to each ship, in the very midst of the host, without being questioned. Stopped.

That could only mean -

There. He saw his Father in the distance, and Maedhros stood over him, shouting. It looked as though he may even strike him. If it had been any elf other than their father, Curufin was sure he would have.

Nearby, his pale brother Celegorm was watching the argument unfold, slack jawed, with something akin to awe in his eyes. His porcelain white skin and straw coloured hair seemed nearly translucent when lit by the flames in the darkness. His hand rested on the shoulder of an Ambarussa – the darker haired one. Curufin had lost track of his own Ambarussa, but was sure he had not gone far.

And there was Maglor, moving fluidly throughout the crowd, trying to sooth the undulating congregation of upset elves.

The air felt still. Something was wrong.

Caranthir was missing. But the crowd was constantly shifting. Elves were shouting in anger, crying out in fear. Questions were being called out from place to place, elf to elf, yet no answers were forthcoming. The camp was in chaos. And over it all, the smoke billowed, sparks flew through the air. The ships transformed into towering pillars of flame stood silently along the horizon and the air fell heavy and dry in throats and lungs.

Curufin stared into the flames for a long moment, until his vision began to waver from white to dark, and the images lost meaning.

The final piece clicked into place.

He strode with wide strides to where Fëanor still argued with his eldest brother. In the chaos of the night, not one soul noticed his rapid approach.

He rested a hand on Maedhros' shoulder, startling both elves who in the heat of their debate had not noticed his coming, and shoved him aside. He stood nose to nose with his father, Fëanor's very own fire burning bright in Curufin's eyes.

There was a brief hush as the atmosphere shifted. “You did this?” He asked unnecessarily.

The brothers were accustomed to seeing Maedhros disagree with their father. In fact, all of the sons of Fëanor had at some point had heated words against their father. But never Curufin.

Fëanor met Curufin's gaze unflinchingly. He burned with a justified anger, with absolute conviction in the rightness of his actions. “And what if I did?” He demanded. “Will you presume to question me as well? And to what purpose – what is done is done!”

Curufin gazed long as his father, paling slowly. What is done is done. He was entirely correct. And yet -

“ _Where is my son?”_ He demanded, the words losing none of their force for the fact that they were said in a whisper. “I left him! He slept still on the ship, our very own. He was asleep still when we arrived, and no camp had yet been pitched. I left him! _Father, did you wake him?”_

Curufin did not need to see the sudden paling of Feanor's face as the blood drained from him to know the truth. His silence was answer enough.

Cold descended swiftly, despite the still roaring flames. The brothers who had been close enough to hear stood frozen, save Maedhros who reached out to take Curufin's shoulder.

Curufin roughly shook his eldest brother's hand away. What comfort could he offer now?

“Is this to be your purpose in Middle Earth then, Father?” He demanded. “You have brought Doom down upon us all with your Oath, and again at Alqualondë! And yet a third time – your first act on these shores was not to strike a blow against the Enemy, but to my own heart!” His voice rose, until it carried over nearly the entire camp.

Still, Feanor made no response. He stood ghost pale, eyes wide, and stared at his son in silence, making no defence for himself.

“I have lost my son this night, and so have you!” He cried, stepping backwards in slowly dawning horror. “I do not know you, you are not my Father!” Struck by the sudden, desperate need for action, he leapt forward, striking Fëanor to the ground. Before anyone had a moment to react he was running, fleeing towards the treeline. He did not know what he intended, but he could not stay a moment longer.

Maedhros looked down at their father in shock.

Fëanor reamined on his knees, staring silently at the sand beneath him, glowing red orange. In his narrowing vision, it was drenched in as much innocent blood as the sands of Alqualondë.

Blood dripped slowly from Fëanor's lip to his chin, but he seemed not to notice. He stared silently at his hands, turning them over as if seeing them for the first time.

Maedhros knelt to offer his father a hand. The moment his hand brushed Fëanor's sleeve, the elf recoiled violently and looked up. His eyes were wild and dilated in his pale face, but anger radiated from him in a way it never had before.

“ **_Leave me.”_ **He commanded, and Maedhros had no choice but to obey. He fled the scene, leaving his father kneeling in the sand, and returned silently to his tent.

One by one, his brothers streamed in after him, looking lost and confused.

The Ambarussa looked up at him with confused eyes. “Nelyo, what is happening?” One asked.

“Why did Curvo strike father?”

“Where is Tyelpë?”

Maedhros held up his hand to silence the twins. He stared down at the wide eyed children. They were barely older then Celebrimbor, and he was more like a brother then a nephew to them. All three were far too young to have been taken across the sea in the family's wild, hopeless mission. None had yet reached their majority. They should be at home, with their mothers.

But this was not the case. The Ambarussa were here, and Celebrimbor was... not, any longer.

Maedhros opened his mouth to explain, but he had taken too long. Caranthur slammed his fist into one of the wooden tent posts, shattering it with the force, and cursed. The Ambarussa flinched, while Celegorm glared at him in disapproval.

“What do we do now?” Maglor asked the room, nearly voiceless with shock.

Maedhros ignored his brothers for the moment, and knelt to face the young twins. He took one of each of their hands into his own, and forced his own emotions down. “Father is very unwell.” He began, only to be interrupted by Celegorm.

“ _Unwell!”_ The blond scoffed loudly, beginning to pace in agitation. “I am going after Curufinwë.” He announced abruptly. “He knows nothing of the woods. It would be too dangerous for him to wander were he at his most capable. I can only assume he is not.” He stormed from the tent.

Maglor stepped out of the tent, whether to breath or to watch their younger brother storm to his own tent was unclear. Though Maedhros doubted the air was any fresher outside of the tent then inside. It was hot no matter where you went, and the smoke hung thick and acrid over the entire beach.

Realizing he was now the only brother left inside the tent with the three red heads, and not wishing to make Maedhros' job any more difficult than it already was, Caranthir too stepped silently from the tent. A glance across the beach revealed that Fëanor was nowhere to be seen.

Alone once again, Maedhros took a breath and continued. “Father is unwell.” He repeated. It echoed in his head daily, a mantra that became slowly louder, and harder to ignore. It was time to give it voice. However, he found himself struggling to find the rest of the words to continue. Father was unwell, but how could that excuse what he had done? Betraying their uncle, their cousins, abandoning them on the far shore. Fingolfin had sworn an Oath to their Father. Fëanor of all people should know his brother would not have broken it. But he had become paranoid, and violent. Tonight showed just how far Fëanor had descended into his madness.

He did not realize his hands were shaking.

The Ambarussa looked down at his trembling hands, and slowly pulled theirs away as one.

“Nelyo...”

“Where is Tyelpë?”

“What has Father done?” Their voices wavered. They knew. They knew, but they could not believe it. They needed to hear the words from their brother to make them true. They waited for Maedhros to tell them otherwise.

He could not. “Tyelpë is gone.” He whispered hoarsely. “He slept on the ship.”

“The ships that father burned.”

“He killed him.”

“He killed our nephew?”

“His own grandson.”

"Little Tyelpë…"

“It was an accident.” Maedhros insisted. “He did not know. _He did not know._ ” Without a hand to hold, he clasped his own hands together to try and alleviate the violent trembling that had begun. Now that he was aware of it, it seemed to only become worse.

“It could have been one of us.” Ambarussa spoke softly, looking frightened.

“Any one of us.” They glanced at each other, sharing a look of understanding, and inched closer. Clasping their hands together tightly, they slowly sat on the floor across from Maedhros.

“Should we forgive him?”

“Do you?”

Maedhros' entire body shuddered. “I do not know. How can I? But how can I not?”

They exchanged glances again. “Curufinwë will never forgive him.”

“We would not, had it been one of us.”

Maedhros nodded, as his knees slowly gave out beneath him and he found himself sliding heavily to the ground. “I understand. I cannot tell him what to do any more than I can tell you. But I do not know what I will do. We cannot forsake our Oath, and we cannot forsake Father.”

“Curufinwë has.”

Maedhros shook his head. “He spoke hastily, out of anger. To leave is to Doom himself to the Eternal Darkness. He will return. Celegorm will see to it.”

Ambarussa, who knew Celegorm far better than Maedhros, and therefore in some small way Curufin, exchanged glances, but remained silent. This conversation would go nowhere. There was nothing more to say.

They leaned forward and wrapped their small arms around their brother. Unprepared for such a gesture, Maedhos pulled the twins in close and wept into their hair.

Celegorm had two packs slung over his arms, along with his knives and his hunting bow. At his waist was slung Curufin's longsword. He was far over prepared for the brief peregrination that he intended to take after his brother.

He stopped and stood briefly behind Caranthir and Maglor who sat silently side by side on the sand. They leaned slightly towards each other, but did not quite touch.

“What are you doing?” Celegorm demanded harshly, causing Caranthir to jump slightly. Maglor simply turned to him, with a bone weary expression which only seemed to become even more drawn as he took in Celegorm's appearance.

“This is our nephew's funeral pyre.” Caranthir stated in a wooden tone, sparing Celegorm only a brief glance before turning back to face the sea.

Celegorm's fists clenched and unclenched convulsively.

Maglor stood suddenly and lurched towards Celegorm, pulling him into a deep hug.

Celegorm stood frozen, unable or unwilling to reciprocate the action.

“Please bring him back.” He pleaded. Celegorm remained frozen in place.

“I intend to.” He answered shortly.

Maglor leaned in closer, resting his head on Celegorm's shoulder, and whispered; “Keep him safe.”

At this, Celegorm gave only a brief nod. He managed to wrap one arm around Maglor's back and pat him there once. Finally, the elder brother released him.

Celegorm turned wordlessly and left his brothers on the sand to watch the flames. No one came forward to stop him as he left the beach and melted silently into the shadows of the treeline, leaving no trace of his passing.

Curufin was prone on the ground, a boneless weeping heap.

Celegorm had never in his life seen his brother in such a state, and felt almost ashamed to be watching what should have been his private grief. It was clear however that Curufin was mindless to his surroundings, and so Celegorm remained in the shadows, watching guard, but allowing him the illusion of privacy.

After a time however, the tears ceased, and still Curufin did not move. He remained in his sprawl, as one dead. Soundlessly, Celegorm materialized beside him in a crouch, and turned his brother on his side.

Curufin met his gaze for barely a moment before sliding them downcast back to the dirt. “Leave me here.” He growled, as animalistic as Celegorm had ever heard him.

Celegorm was unmoved. “No.” He said, sitting back on his haunches, clearly prepared to wait until had pulled himself together. “If I left now, you would only get yourself killed.”

“And what does it matter if I do.”

Celegorm's eyes narrowed into fierce slits. “It matters.” He snapped, unwilling to expound further on the topic.

Curufin scoffed and rolled away. “I have lost my Father and my son. What do I have left worth living for?”

“Well fuck you too.” Celegorm retorted.

Curufin winced. “I didn't mean it like that.”

Celegorm rolled his shoulders backwards. “It's what you said. Get off the ground.”

“I'm not going back.”

He flinched as a large pack landed inches from his nose with a loud thunk.

“Did I say we were?” Celegorm snapped impatiently. “Get yourself out of the dirt. It is unbecoming.”

Curufin stared sightlessly at the pack for a moment before slowly sitting up, turning to look at Celegorm in uncertain confusion. “What are you doing?” Celegorm was unbuckling Curufin's sword belt and tossed that over as well, which Curufin deftly caught.

“Watching out for my idiotic little brother who knows absolutely nothing about woodcraft and decided to run off into untamed wilderness in an unknown, poisoned land. Alone. With no supplies.”

“I was-”

“Planning to die. Yes. I am familiar with the feeling.”

Curufin watched his older brother silently, but did not stand.

“You are the reason I did not, and so I am returning the favor.”

Curufin's bitter expression fading slightly in his surprise. He had no idea what Celegorm was talking about, and felt it was probably not appropriate to ask. “The Oath.” Curufin insisted instead. “You cannot leave. You've doomed yourself to Eternal Darkness if you do.”

Celegorm shrugged indifferently. “Plans change. That was before - well. That was before. And now, you have foreswarn the Oath, and Father both. I'm not afraid of Eternal Darkness. Where you go, I will follow.” He stated, unconsciously echoing his uncles own promise to his father.

Curufin shook his head slowly, buckling the belt around his own waist and donning the travel pack. “And Huan?”

Celegorm waved a hand through the air. “Around. He will not be far off.”

“Our brothers?”

“Believe I am bringing you back to camp. They will probably come looking for us if we are not back before dawn.”

Curufin nodded and stepped forward on shaky legs. In a heartbeat, Celegorm was at his side supporting him, despite being notably the shorter of the two. They walked together like this for some time, Celegorm keeping track of time, his eyes on the treeline and ears turned towards the woods. The shadow of Huan flit occasionally in and out of view through the trees. Curufin kept his eyes on his feet and leaned heavily into Celegorm's support more and more.

Some hours after dawn broke, with the sun rising higher and higher into the sky, Celegorm paused. He set Curufin gently down to rest in the dust, and reached into his pack for some waybread that had lasted the sea voyage. He nearly dropped it in surprise when he turned back around and found Curufin curled in around himself as though injured, face buried in his hands. His body heaved with silent sobs.

Celegorm realized it would be some time before practical action was appreciated. At present, what Curufin needed was more likely... emotional support. Celegorm grimaced, well aware that of all his brothers, he was the most lacking in this skill.

He sat silently beside Curufin and reached one arm around his back, patting him awkwardly. “Ah... there there.” He murmured. He was wholly unprepared for Curufin to throw himself into the half hug, wrapping his arms around Celegorm's chest. Tucking his head under Celegorm's chin, Curufin began to weep in earnest. “I left him, Tyelko, I _left_ him.”

With a sigh, Celegorm tightened his grip on his little brother and rocked him slowly, drawing his hand through the dark strands of Curufin’s hair. “No.” He scolded, gentle but firm. “Do not go down that road. None of us could have known what Father would do.”  
  


"I saw him sleeping, and I thought of waking him. I nearly did, but I chose - he should have been with me, but I left him."

Celegorm's grip tightened as his face hardened. "This is not your doing." He repeated firmly, sharp eyes staring into the middle distance. He was seething in his own silent fury, but now was not the time.

Curufin did not reply to this, but allowed himself to slowly shatter in Celegorm’s arms.


End file.
